The One Freeman
by Retarded Seal
Summary: Gordon Freeman. Neurotic individual and scientist. Thrust in a world of warcraft. How bad can it be?
1. It Begins

Ah. Nothing more relaxing than taking leasuirely strolls through a forest and blowing the heads of zombies.

Ah. Who am I kidding, this is a fucking bore.

You know, the concept of fighting zombies while wearing armour might sound endearing to a five year old but getting there and actually doing it makes it incredibly monotone, Yeah you might get the first five-seconds of 'HOLY SHIT, THIS IS GREAt" but eventually, it bores you out.

Oh well. It's not like I have anything better to do and I seriously doubt if this suit has a pingball in it. But hey, at least it had a helmet. 

* * *

"By the Sunwell..." whispered a Ranger.

"It took down a whole horde of them!" said another, awe in her voice.

Sylvanas Windrunner shushed them, her blue eyes observing the bright,orange golem ahead of them. They were Farstriders, Elves sworn to the defense of Quel'thalas. Only the most skilled of elves were given the chance to join their ranks. Most would drop-out as the training regimen of the Farstriders was one of the harshest in all of Azeroth. If an elf succeeded in all the trials presented to them, then they would get the privilege of joining them.

Now here they were, hiding in the underbrush, stalking a bright orange golem swiftly dispatching a horde of undead.

"Captain. I could try taking to it." Suggested a Ranger. Sylvanas shook her head, saying.

"Matlhas. We must be wary. It may have attacked the Scourge but we have no way of knowing if it would see us as friend or foe."

Her Rangers, seeing the logic in her answer, nodded and laid low, their eyes warily eyeing the golem. 

* * *

I looked down upon the corpse of the zombie that I just riddled with bullets. The thing looked like a piece of cheese that had been riddled through by sausages in the "Sausage and Cheese" factory. It had been three days since the CIA spook got me here and all I ever got to see were zombies. How many you ask?

Shit-ton of them.

For some reason, I seem to constantly find piles of ammunition laying around. It was as if Santa Claus himself decided to give me an early Christmas present. It may have been a Chrismast present consisting of bullets and grenades but hey, it's the thought and not the present that counts.

Back at Black Mesa, one of the scientists was a spiritual guy and would sometimes share his homemade pasta with everyone. "Sharing is loving" he said. So far, I've been following his mantra and had shared everything I had. In the form of 9mm bullets.

Remember, it's not the present but the thought that counts.

Finishing off the last zombie, I spotted a path a good distance away. This was good. Path meant roads. And roads meant civilization.

And civilization meant food. 

* * *

"Look! It's moving!" cried one of her Rangers.

Surely enough, the man-sized golem walked off, seemingly unconcerned at the carnage it had inflicted. Her body shuddered at what might happen if the golem turned its wrath towards her people. Images of elves being taken by the golem's fury haunted her mind.

"Shall we follow it?" asked a Ranger.

She nodded.

Soon, the party of twelve elves moved from their hiding spot, clinging to the protection of the forests as they followed their charge. 

* * *

Do you sometimes get the feeling that someone is out there watching you?

I say this from personal experience. Well, try fighting the shit I've been fighting and you'd develop a sixth sense. You know, I just realized something. If humans did the same thing over and over again, would we achieve something spectacular in terms of evolution? Like if I played around with lightning long enough, could I eventually shoot lightning out of my hand?

That would be fantastic. I could use that just in case I get to live through the Apocalypse. I'd wait until civilization dies down. And when the time's right, I'd reveal myself as a God-Emperor and have people build statues of me while I recreate society and bang hot babes.

That would be spectacular.

But first, I should deal with my stalkers. 

* * *

"HEY! I KNOW YOU'RE OUT THERE! COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP! VIOLATORS WILL BE SHOT! SURVIVORS WILL BE SHOT AGAIN!

Sylvanas cursed in Thalassian. The golem had seen them and was now demanding them to step out of the shadows. She was rather surprised. A golem that could speak? What sort of mage had the power to not only create a golem adept in battle but also give it speech?

Her scholarly side was intrigued. Her more militaristic side wasn't.

'I'M WARNING YOU! STEP OUT! I WILL ONLY COUNT TO FIVE. IF YOU AREN'T OUT HERE BEFORE THAT NUMBER, THAT FOREST IS GOING TO LOOK LIKE DRESDEN IN THE 40'S"

"Captain, what should we do?"

Sylvanas saw the emotion that she hated seeing on her warriors. Fear.

"The two of you." She pointed a duo of rangers. "Retreat to Silvermoon. Inform the council about the thing that we are dealing here." She tried saying it smoothly, as each leader should. but she failed.

"The rest of you..."

She turned towards the golem, it stood ready, its weapon, a noisy contraption pointed at their direction.

"Follow me." 

* * *

A/N: Basically been rewatching Freeman's Mind. Then I got this idea. So enjoy.

I don't own anything. I'm doing this for Fanfiction.


	2. Cleaning House 1

"Okay. I have seen weirder shit. This one definitely takes the cake."

I still had my MP5 trained on them. Wouldn't want to be caught off guard after all. There were six in total. A mix of males and females. And they all had long-ears. The fuck. Were they elves? And what the hell are the women even wearing? That thing won't protect them from the cold neither from a fucking arrow! Are they trying to get themselves killed? Why the fuck would you even traipse around the battlefield on a fucking bikini?

Well, they do look hot so that could be forgiven.

For the time being. 

* * *

Sylvanas bared herself. She did not know whether the golem would lash out. What she could avail was caution.

"Greetings...I-I am Sylvanas Windrunner. We welcome you to our lands."

She hoped that the golem might at least understand that she was not an enemy. Thankfully, the golem lowered its weapon.

"Where am I?" The golem barked.

"You are in Quel'thalas. Home of the High Elves." She replied. The golem was strangely silent.

"Please tell me that I'm in Europe." said the golem after a period of silence. Its voice sounded so similarly of a man in desperation "And that you are all just guys and gals in costume."

Her eyebrow rose in confusion. Europe? The Ranger-General of Silvermoon was widely educated in all matters. She had never heard of a place called "Europe". And if it did, she might have gotten wind of it.

"I'm afraid that I have no knowledge of this 'Europe' that you have mentioned." She replied. Truthfully. "Is this 'Europe' your place of origin?" 

* * *

My mind clicked.

I think it may have gotten me a good five seconds before getting it. I was stuck in god knows where. When I made a deal with that CIA spook, I asked for Hawaii. Not through fucking Fantasy land. That bastard fucking screwed me over. He...

Okay Gordon. You've been through some serious shit. Just calm down, take a deep breath and it would be a-okay.

Alright...Let's do the basics of survival. Ask help from the locals.

"Where's the nearest city here?" I asked. Thank the high heavens that I found the helmet for the suit. I wouldn't want these cosplayers seeing my devilishly handsome face. Plus, I sounded intimidating.

"Silvermoon. Our Capital."

Okay, she sounded a bit too wary about that. What? Does she think that I would march up there with an army, piss on a fountain and go home with a new best friend? I would have done that if I was younger and drunk but I'm more professional now. With a degree!

"Would you kindly take me there?" It sucks trying to ask help from people but if I want to get some food, I had to play this lost American tourist act. When they're turning their backs, I could sneak in and steal some valuables and piss off to another are country and live the rest of my days fighting zombies. Yeah, that would be awesome. 

* * *

"My lady, we should destroy it!" Said a Ranger, in Thalassian. "It could be a trap by the Scourge!"

"I would not think that the Scourge would go to great lengths to catch us off-guard, Kythus." replied Sylvanas. She eyed the orange golem. The golem was clearly lost. That she could see. And so far, it had been attacking the Scourge. If she played her cards right, she could bring in the golem. It might well be a powerful tool in the fight against the Scourge.

Well. It was now or never.

"We will take you there. But swear, on your life, that your weapons will be trained not on my people but on the Scourge that has blighted my peoples' land." The group stood silent, waiting for the golem's response. Now, Sylvanas was inwardly kicking herself. She was talking to a golem! A Golem! It could very well take her words the wrong way and-

"Alright."

She blinked.

"But I want compensation."

If it played it that way, it could be arranged. But the Scourge was growing in power and Quel'thalas needed all the support that it needed. The Human Kingdoms in the south could not be counted to help them as they themselves were dealing with the Scourge. Quel'thalas stood alone. And it would have to fight the Scourge alone.

And only at her dying breath would she, Sylvanas Windrunner, allow it to fall.

"Very well. Follow me." 

* * *

"My Lady, I still think that we are making a grave mistake." Protested Kythus. "That….thing would sooner turn his weapons on us while our backs are turned!"

She glanced at the bright orange golem at their backs. She could see that while its weapons were grounded on the ground, it was still wary of them. 'Mutual distrust' she mused.

"Kythus. The golem has sworn an oath. It will not harm us." She said. The Farstrider still did not look convinced.

"I still remain with my belief."

Inwardly, she smiled. She had trained her elves well. She could certainly count on them at the final battle. 

* * *

What a pushover! Who does she think to make demands of Gordon the Great? I faced countless hordes of xenos. I have travelled in different dimensions! I have a degree in physics! I faced an Elder God and won! She is but a tick to my achievements!

But hey, If I wanna survive, I should put my conquering on hold and act like a dumb tourist. That would catch her off guard.

It was then that I noticed that the group had stopped moving.

"Hey, what's the holdup…"

I could see why.

Right in front of our very eyes, a city was burning.

The elf-chick, Sylvanas, had dropped on her knees, saying something in a language that I didn't quite catch.

And out of instinct, I dropped on my knees. I looked up and sure enough, one of those fucking flying manta rays swooped in out of nowhere and flew towards the city.

"By the light…"

"Anar'lah belore…" said another.

If there are manta rays, it meant that those fucking aliens followed me here.

Aw come one! Give me a fucking break!

Oh well. When pests show up, the exterminator has got a job to do.

And no one here is more qualified in cleaning up a xeno infestation but me.

I strode forward, ignoring the shocked elves.

"Where are you going?" cried an elf.

I turned my back, my MP5 at the ready.

"Cleaning house." I replied 

* * *

A/N: Again, I don't own anything. Each and everything belongs to their respective creators.


	3. Cleaning House 2

Chaos. Chaos everywhere.

Running through the streets of Silvermoon, Sylvanas and her party witnessed chaos in its purest form. Buildings were on fire, the screams of the dead or dying being were carried in the air. Her heart shattered. Silvermoon, the high home, was being desecrated. And she, the Ranger-General, the guardian of the city, was helpless to stop it. Their foes were powerful and unlike anything that she and her fellow elves saw.

Small-dog like creatures that released an ear-piercing screech before releasing a shockwave that sent even the most skilled of elves flying. Bipedal fauna with tentacles for heads, capable of shooting deadly liquids out its mouth melted even through the thickest of armour. And the most dangerous were dwarf-sized creatures that shot darts out of their hands.

They could be killed, as she herself had slain a number of them. But for every creature that they killed, three more would take their place.

"My Lady!" She turned to see a High Elven Priest limping towards her.

"What has happened?" Twas a stupid question, for the answer was already apparent. But she still wanted to know how and why.

"They appeared fast." answered the priest. He had fallen on his knees, Sylvanas went to his side. "They landed right outside the city gates and slaughtered every single elf there. Then they ran loose across the city, slaughtering as they went." He winced, his hand reaching for his chest. "We managed to contain the rest but so far, they have been burrowing by the Sunwell."

"And the Magisters?"

"Dead."

"By the Sunwell, it killed them all!" cried an elf. From the corner of her eye, she saw an elf running along with the masses of elves.

"What killed them all?" demanded a Ranger.

"A golem! An orange golem that wielded flame! Eyes black as night!" That surged Sylvanas's interest. The golem had vanished into the smoke of the burning city and there she lost him.

"Where did you last see it?" asked Sylvanas, rising to her feet.

The elf looked down, shame laced on his face. "B-By the Sunwell...I was stationed there but my entire unit was wiped out...I had to run!" Sylvanas reached for the elf, grasping him by the shoulder. The elf, surprised, before realizing what he done.

He ran away. When his comrades held their ground and fought, he ran. He was beyond guilty. He himself had admitted his guilt.

"What is your name?" she asked, softly.

"Zanilan...Zanilan Bloodflame." He replied, quite unsure of what was happening.

"Zanilan Bloodflame." Her voice was firm and resolute. "Your crime of cowardice is grave." He clenched his fists, preparing himself for what punishment she might throw at him "And I, Sylvanas Windrunner, Ranger-General of SIlvermoon, give you my verdict." She turned to a nearby Ranger. The elf unsheathed his own sword and tossed the weapon to her.

"Your punishment is this. You shall defend SIlvermoon with your very life. Only at your last dying breath shall your punishment be lifted."

She held the hilt of the weapon to him. Stunned to silence, he took the weapon, tears slowly forming in his eyes.

"Thank you, My Lady."

At that day, he swore that he would fulfill his duty to the very end. He will protect Silvermoon. And he will protect the lady that saved his life.

Gathering her warriors, Sylvanas marched towards the Sunwell. She had been informed by the priest about recurring matters. At first, she pressed the priest to remain as to recuperate but the elf was stubbornly resistant to the idea.

"What sort of shepherd would I be that would leave his flock to the wolves?"

And so, she brought him along. The priest introduced himself as Matheas Sunseeker. A priest of the light.

"Where did you see this golem, Lady Sylvanas?" asked the priest.

"On the outskirts of the forest. We were tracking a horde of undead and that was where we found it." They passed by corpses, both elf and the creatures they were facing. But there were also small metals lining the streets, meaning that they were heading in the right direction.

"Is it hostile?" The concern in his voice was apparent.

"So far, it has been attacking both the scourge and the creatures we now face. I have spoken with it and I can say that it is concer-"

"Wait. You spoke to it?" Matheas's voice was laced with incredulity.

She could understand why he would not believe her. She had hard time comprehending that idea of an intelligent golem.

"Believe it or not, I had spoken with it. It has displayed rudimentary amounts of intelligence. It had even demanded me compensation in exchange for its services." Sylvanas smiled a little. What would it do when it would receive what it was asking for? That she would like to see.

A loud explosion brought the group to a sudden halt. As they crouched low, they could see a bright orange figure leaping, narrowly avoiding a shot of deadly fluid from a tentacled creature. She could see that it was their golem. It reached for something, an olive looking thing. It then inserted it into its weapon, aimed at one of the creatures and suddenly, the creature and its surrounding area was engulfed in a bright explosion.

As the smoke settled, the gathered elves could see the golem standing proud over a creature it slain, its weapon resting on his shoulder.

"By the light..." swore Matheas. 

* * *

Damn don't I look badass.

So far, the aliens were decent enough to take my bullets. I don't know if it was me but were they getting softer? Before, they used to be grittier but now they are weaker. I mean, the shocks made by those three-armed fuckers didn't even bother me that much.

But oh well, at least it's easier to kill them now.

Yes. That's the only thing that these aliens get from me! My grenades and my bullets!

From behind me, I could hear a crowd gathering. It was that elf chick from earlier. Sylvanas or something.

That reminds me, In the Philippines, there was this desert that shared her exact same name. It was a frozen cookie made from a layer of buttercream sandwiched between two cashew-meringue wafers coated with cookie crumbs. Man were those things good.

"Hail, Golem!" said a guy in robes. His voice was a bit too cheerful for my liking

Wait, what did he call me? Golem?

Oh wait, these people assume that I'm a stone something because of my suit and helmet. Hey, if I was from a low-level society, I would think the same way too.

I can't blame them. I should really start thinking up an "I am a God!" speech.

I inclined my head, acknowledging his measly existence. The guy looked surprised.

"You can understand me?"

Okay. Now I feel stupid.

"Of course I can." I replied. "I have a brain you know."

For the most part, the guy looked intrigued. And judging from the smile on his face, I could say that I need to stay away from him as far as possible.

Luckily, Sylvanas stepped in to stop the guy from harassing me further.

"I see that you are unharmed." She said, eyeing me up and down.

"No shit, Captain Obvious." I said mirthlessly. She glared at me.

"What was that?"

"Nothing. Just me admiring the scenery.

She eyed me for a few seconds before saying. "I thought so."

At that moment, one of the aliens, A Cthulhu-dog, stirred awake. The elves, surprised, leapt back. I for the most part, being the badass that I am, emptied half of the magazine of my gun into the spawn from hell. The thing gave one final moan before succumbing to its wounds.

"Rest in pieces!" I yelled. 

* * *

Zanilan didn't know what to think of the golem. For the most part, he had wanted nothing but dig his sword deep into the golem's back. He had clearly heard what the golem had said. His blood boiled to hear the golem insult the Captain-General. But a side of him was also wary. The golem had single-handedly taken down what a whole unit of elves couldn't take.

The golem had been silent. So more so when they neared the Sunwell.

His heart swelled when the group passed a gruesome sight. His comrades laid dead on the streets, their armor battered and their bodies broken. They had stayed behind and held their line and died. He had dropped his sword and ran and lived.

He shook his head off. The Ranger-General of Silvermoon herself had granted him clemency. He owed her his life.

They would face the enemy again. And this time, he swore that he would stand his ground and fight.

A loud roar brought him to heel. He looked forward and saw a sight that would forever be embedded into his mind.

It was large. It had a body that reminded him of a crab. Its legs were in the distinct shape of scimitars. Under its body was a large sack that smelled terribly.

It was also coming their way at high speeds. 

* * *

A/N: Note. I will be more active in SB than in . So if ya want daily updates, head over there. My account's name is Pastah_Farian.


	4. Cleaning House 3

So far, my luck has turned from okay to shitty. I sometimes get a lucky break and when I'm about settle down, shit happens. It's like there's a constant specter looming over me at every turn, hunting me down to the ends of the earth. I could run as far away as I possible but in the end, it would still be after me. Man, life is fucking brutal.

And to show you that you're its bitch, it throws you problems. And by problems, I meant a fucking giant testicle monster barreling at us in high speeds.

I took cover way before my pointy-eared friends even saw it coming.

I could got out of my way and try saving a few of these guys but here's the deal. I barely know them. Even more so that weird priestly guy from earlier. I figured that he was some type of clergy. After all, who hell walks around wearing a robe, carries a staff and is generally creepy. Psychologists and some people might cry out at me for making poor moral choices but here's the deal. When something big wants to kill you, morality and shit gets thrown out like spoiled pizza.

And I'm Gordon fucking Freeman. I'm the guy that fought and Elder God and won. I think I've transcended onto a higher form of existence after what I did. This is reality's way of saying that I violated a law.

* * *

"SCATTER!" screamed Sylvanas. Her Rangers ran aside, jumping over barricades or hugging the sides. However, a few were unfortunate enough to be caught by the Gonarch's charge. Some were simply squished by the monster. Other were impaled by the creature's sharp legs while a few were tossed aside. Those who were caught by the creature's charge lay dead or dying. The dead, twisted into grotesque while the dying screaming for help.

As the creature halted its charge, Sylvanas immediately went into action.

"Archers and Mages! Aim for its sack!"

Herself notching an arrow, she aimed at the large, pulsating sack and fired. The arrow hissed in the air before embedding itself into its target. The creature shrieked. Even more so as arrows and spells were thrown at it. Seeing the damage done, she turned to a ranger and shouted orders for a charge.

"For the King!" declared a Ranger as she jumped over a barricade

"Praise the Sun!' yelled a helmeted elf, his armour a greenish trim with a yellow sun engraved on his chest plate.

With spears and swords at the ready, the elves charged at the stunned monster who was slowly recovering from the elven attack. With skill and cutting-edge precision, the elven defenders dug, hacked and slashed their weapons into the monster's sack, causing the foul creature to emit horrible shrieks that assaulted Sylvanas's sensitive hearing but she tossed away such petty concerns. Her mind focused one matter. The creature can be killed. That was good news for her.

She decided to end the matter as quickly as possible.

"Archers!" 

* * *

Wow.

The people here actually know what they are doing. That is the GREATEST gift that anyone. No, I could ask for. If we had people like these back at Black Mesa, the whole shit-show would be over before you'd say "Clean Up"

But who am I kidding. Having such competent people in Black Mesa is going to mess with my record. Black Mesa is known for one thing and one thing only. General Incompetence. If I took it's only cool feature, it's going to be like taking the winds off an angel. I can also guess that this is the reward that reality is giving me. "Oh, you just went through literal hell. Here's a few competent people to make you feel like there's a chance to survive in the coming fuckfest."

But wait. The day keeps on getting better.

MAGIC! As in real, functional battle magic! This shit is going to be the bomb in Country Fairs. If I could learn how they do magic, I could go on National Television and be the God that I am! Huh, I wonder if I could find the source of their power and take it for myself. Nah, I don't know. It's probably going to take me a special magic sword to do it. Maybe an urn too.

I dunno, while magic could be cool, it's probably going to be like that prototype leaf blower back at Black Mesa. Pretty powerful but once you're out of juice, game over. Maybe I'd try and learn it but I'll just stick to guns. Guns after all are a magic to their own. Just one pull and boom! The guy you are aiming at is dead!

A loud screeching alerted me to turn towards the elves. The fucking testicle monster was getting up back to its feet and I seriously doubt if they have what it takes to bring down something that took me shit-ton of explosives to do.

So who do you call when the going gets tough?

Gordon fucking Freeman.

Giant testicle monster. Meet my friend, Rocket Launcher. 

* * *

Despite their best efforts, it still wouldn't die.

From her mouth, a stream of foul curses came. Normally, such language would never be heard from an elf. Let alone a member of the prestigious Windrunner family. But she was frustrated damn it! Why won't it die!?

And her source of salvation came from somewhere that she had forgotten.

The golem strode next to her. On his arm was a long metallic tube. She knew not what it was for but she recognized something dangerous when she saw it. The golem confirmed her suspicions.

"I'd take your men back if I were you." Ominously intoned the golem.

Quickly barking out orders, her Rangers retreated. In their haste, their weapons were left still hanging on the creatures' sack. The next thing she saw was a white smoky trail that came from the tube. Then something deafening rocked her ears.

As the dust settled, the first thing she noticed was that the creature was still standing. She also saw that it had a huge mark on its sack, pouring from it was a stream of sticky, white liquid. Its last actions was a cry that became lower and lower. Until finally, it collapsed on its legs, dead. And there stood the golem, standing as if on a vigil, its weapon thrown over its shoulder.

A tense silence fell. Its lifespan was relatively short as cheers broke out from her Rangers.

From their ranks, Matheas came forward. A smile tugging the corners of his dirtied face.

"Truly we are blessed by this victory!"

He strode towards the golem who had turned its back, facing the approaching Elven priest.

"Do you have a name golem?"

The golem craned its head before answering.

"Gordon Freeman."

To her surprise, the priest extended his hand towards the golem.

"Matheas Sunseeker. Priest to the Holy Light of Creation."

The two stared at each other. The golem, at the elf's hand. The elven priest, at the golem's golden mirror visage.

After a time of hesitation, the golem reaches out and clasps the Elven Priests' hand. 

* * *

A/N: This arc ain't over yet. There's still more to be done.

Like that coming horde of undead led by our favorite example of leadership, Prince Arthas.


End file.
